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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27916966">in the company of strangers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jukeboxgraduate/pseuds/jukeboxgraduate'>jukeboxgraduate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death (Non-Graphic), Gen, M/M, Weird pacing, bad dynamics, fleeting moments of self awareness perhaps atypical of both teenagers and dutch van der linde, it's not the way you think it is</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:40:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27916966</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jukeboxgraduate/pseuds/jukeboxgraduate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Colm has remained one of the only familiar faces Dutch has seen running up and down the coast since leaving home, and each time they happen across one another Dutch curses himself for conflating familiarity with obligation.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Colm O'Driscoll/Dutch van der Linde, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in the company of strangers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>massive shoutout to <a href="http://twitter.com/spaceghcst">julian</a> for a character name and some big brainstorming, and also <a href="http://twitter.com/perilit">erin perilit</a>. </p><p>here's some late teenage dutch for you all, i guess.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            A hand closes around Dutch’s arm as he moves to slip past the bar and out the back door of the saloon. Dutch turns to see Colm O’Driscoll leaning his thin frame against the bar, studying him with his narrow eyes. Running across Colm is always exciting, though Dutch should know better than to be seduced by the thrill of the work Colm finds for himself.</p><p>            “Hey, kid,” Colm says, though just into twenties and hardly older than Dutch. “I thought that was you. Lemme buy you a drink.”</p><p>            “Why?” Dutch asks. Colm has never offered him a drink without a motive - be it personal or business - and Dutch has never easily turned him down once he’s gotten to talking - and Dutch already feels that he’s said too much to back out. Colm has remained one of the only familiar faces Dutch has seen running up and down the coast since leaving home, and each time they happen across one another Dutch curses himself for conflating familiarity with obligation.</p><p>            “I saw you picking that old man’s pocket,” Colm says, a gentle threat, his wide mouth cracking into a smile. The stolen billfold and watch in Dutch’s pocket suddenly feel too heavy. “I know you always have <em>better</em> things to do, but I could really use you.”</p><p>            “What for?” Dutch asks warily. Colm sighs and rolls his neck slightly and absently pulls at the tie around his scraggly brown hair.</p><p>            “Remember back when you helped me with that store clerk? That was good. We could do that again. I could use your brains.”</p><p>            “Who said I got brains?” Dutch asks, and he winces at the pride he hears in his own voice. Colm smiles, looking as if he’s won something.</p><p>            “Help me out, Dutch. You’d be indispensable. I always like working with you,” Colm says. He explains some elaborate plan of stealing a wagon heading out of Boston and selling it to a man Colm knows through some other man. He insists he needs Dutch’s experienced hand with horses, though Dutch is far from being a cowboy. But Dutch hasn’t pulled off any sort of robbery in some time, and though he doesn’t like the way Colm goes about it, the thought of it still entices him.</p><p>            Working with Colm does pay off - between Colm and Dutch and Colm’s bumbling, mean-spirited brother Neal, they make an effective team for robbing anything from drunkards to stagecoaches to general stores. And it satisfies something in Dutch that - as much as he tries to fight it - demands that Dutch never run alone for too long. He tries to measure the time that has passed since he felt useful for something other than picking pockets.</p><p>            “I’ll think about it,” Dutch says, and he turns to leave the saloon before Colm can stop him.</p><p>            Dutch grumbles to himself as he makes his way down the street, knowing and regretting that his mind is made up. He smooths his thumb over the watch in his pocket and wishes he were better suited for lonesomeness.</p><p>-</p><p>            Two days later, Dutch runs into Colm again on the street. Colm invites him again to join him in stealing a wagon, and Dutch accepts with false hesitation. Colm takes him to meet with his brother and a new face - because Colm always has new faces around him, somehow knowing someone everywhere he goes - a young man named Rufus. Dutch wonders what became of the other two young men who were at Colm’s heels when Dutch last saw him. Colm’s associates rarely last long - Dutch included, having no patience for impermanence. </p><p>            The robbery goes more smoothly than Dutch had expected - the horses are cooperative and the four of them slip out of town with it unseen, and Rufus digs through the wagon and drops fine handguns into each of their hands. Colm’s man pays as much as was promised, and Colm chuckles as Dutch divides up the pay between the four of them. The semblance of cooperation brings Dutch a reluctant satisfaction, and he only wishes it came from anyone but Colm and his brother.</p><p>            “Come on back with us, van der Linde,” Colm invites, his mood light now that his pockets are heavy. “Let’s celebrate a bit. It’s been a while.” </p><p>            Dutch accepts and silently curses himself for it, seeing a smug glint in Colm’s small eyes as the leverage shifts. Colm leads them back to their small camp in the darkness, and Neal produces a crate of bottles that the four of them happily crack open.</p><p>            As in all celebrations with Colm, Neal drinks himself to sleep and Colm shoots Dutch a questioning glance. Dutch shrugs, and Colm rises to his feet, swaying only slightly. He ties his hair back again and sighs. Colm would be handsome, Dutch thinks, if he took any care in his presentation - and if Dutch knew him less.</p><p>            "Take a walk with me, Dutch,” Colm says.</p><p>            “You never have enough, do you, Colm?” Dutch teases, but he still gets up, feeling nearly dizzy. As he follows Colm, he catches a look in Rufus's face that tells him Rufus is accustomed to being in Dutch's place. Colm stops just out of the reach of the firelight.</p><p>            “I’m starting to think this is the only reason you bring me along for these jobs," Dutch says. Jobs with Colm always end this way, but it’s better than strangers as far as Dutch is concerned, and there’s enough fight in it to keep it interesting. Dutch moves to push Colm against a tree, and Colm shoves at him, so Dutch shoves him harder, sending him backward with a drunken stumble.</p><p>            "You always accept,” Colm huffs. Dutch feels suddenly naked and regrets having said anything. He shoves at Colm again for good measure and undoes Colm's jeans, then waits a moment - a routine he doesn't forget - to see if Colm will direct him with a word or a shove or a pull. "Come on, Dutch."</p><p>            Dutch pushes through the layers of fabric to find Colm hard, and Dutch smirks with a smug pride and small disgust. Dutch wonders if Colm knows that Dutch goes about such things with the same nonchalance as cleaning his pistol or oiling his boots. Hissing through his teeth, Colm finishes quickly - as he always does - and Dutch wishes he had the grounds to tease him for it.</p><p>            "That's what I like about you, Dutch. You know how to put yourself to work,” Colm says, and Dutch knows. He collects himself enough to return the favor, slowly bringing Dutch off while Dutch grinds his teeth to stay quiet, absently wondering what makes him so special. He assumes it must be because, unlike Rufus, Dutch isn’t quite so willing, and Colm likes to feel like he’s won something. Dutch sees that smugly victorious expression through the dark when he finishes over Colm's hand.</p><p>            “You look awfully proud for someone who don’t make an effort,” Dutch says, and Colm only squints at him, and Dutch decides to say nothing about his inability to retort.</p><p>            Dutch cleans up alone and returns to the meager fire where Rufus has already bedded down. Dutch falls into a sleep more desperate and more sound than he’s had in months.</p><p>            The sun rises, and the third time that Dutch wakes, he wakes to Colm and Neal fighting with one another. Dutch straightens himself and helps himself to Colm’s coffee, which is reliably worse than the coffee Dutch makes on his own. He sits in silence with Rufus, who smokes a cigarette and watches Dutch from under his fringe of curly hair.</p><p>            “You been with them long?” Dutch asks Rufus. He offers Dutch his cigarette and Dutch begins to wave it away, but halts and takes it gratefully.</p><p>            “A few months now.”</p><p>            “And is it working out for you?”</p><p>            “Well enough,” Rufus shrugs. Dutch wonders what Rufus’s plans are - his eyes are far too smart to have been roped into something by Colm unawares, too smart to think Colm thinks of him as anything but business and - apparently - pleasure. But, he supposes, some men are simply more fitted than himself to running and working with men who know only running and working.</p><p>-</p><p>            Dutch stays with Colm for more than a few days this time, dreading facing the solitude of the road alone again. Even the petulant company of the O’Driscoll brothers and Rufus’s odd silence are enough to bring Dutch some peace of mind. His mother had always told him he was ill-suited for living at all, let alone by himself, and he regrets to think she may be right.</p><p>They drink through the evenings and sleep through the mornings, working through afternoons or sneaking onto trains to take them to the next city. The four of them rob a few stores, and Rufus and Dutch manage to steal an impressive black horse together, which they decide to sell only because they both want it for themselves. </p><p>            Dutch looks up at the stars shining bright in the cold night air, regretting not for the first time not having kept the horse he and Rufus had sold. The fire is low, but Dutch is too tired to feed it.</p><p>            Footsteps approach him, and he half expects it to be Colm.</p><p>            “You mind?” Rufus asks, standing over Dutch with a bedroll under his arm.</p><p>            “Not at all,” Dutch says. Rufus unfurls his bedroll next to Dutch and lies down, and his warmth is present and welcome. Rufus stares up at the sky as well, and Dutch wonders if he is also regretting parting with the horse.</p><p>            "Are you cold?" Rufus asks.</p><p>            Dutch looks at Rufus through the darkness, his curls glowing around his head in the low light. Dutch sees the depth of question in his dark eyes.</p><p>            "Yes," Dutch says easily, and Rufus shifts closer to him, and the warmth of his breath is on Dutch's neck, and a hand is fumbling at the buttons of his pants.</p><p>            Dutch lays stunned for a moment and quickly takes to Rufus’s buttons, Rufus pressing his face into Dutch’s shoulder to muffle his breathing. The flurry of hot, quick motions is more pleasant than anything Dutch does with Colm, though it ends just as quickly. Dutch uses his own handkerchief to clean them up, and Rufus promptly falls fast asleep. Dutch rolls over and squints through the darkness, wondering if he had seen Colm move or if it was only a trick of the light.</p><p>-</p><p>            Dutch feels his departure creeping up on him. One day, he tells himself, he will learn not to run with Colm for more than a job or two. Colm is - as far as Dutch can tell - the only man who can make Dutch himself look reasonable in comparison, with his impulsivity and his mean streak. </p><p>            Neal mocks Colm for his cruelty to a couple in a stagecoach that they had robbed hours earlier - Colm teased them with his pistol for far longer than it took to rob them. Rufus watches them calmly, sprawled out at the fire smoking a cigarette that he passes back and forth with Dutch. Colm bristles.</p><p>            “You think you’re so tough, Colm,” Neal laughs. Colm shakes his head and throws down his bottle.</p><p>            Dutch watches Colm berate his brother in a steady stream of insults until Neal swings at him, his fist meeting Colm’s nose with a crack that leaves them both looking darkly satisfied. Dutch wheezes a laugh and Colm turns to face him, holding his nose, his hair falling out of its tie.</p><p>            “And what is it with you, <em>Dutch</em>?“ Colm asks, his voice warped by anger and his bleeding nose. Dutch tilts his head.</p><p>            “I don’t know, Colm. What is it with me?”</p><p>            “You keep trying to undermine me,” Colm says. “Talking this and that about the right way to act like you’re some kind of paragon - “</p><p>            “No,” Dutch sings. “I ain’t undermining you, Colm. Besides, I thought we was working <em>together</em>.”</p><p>            “Working together by running your secret little <em>scores</em> with Rufus? You got some other reason for sticking around so long then?”</p><p>            “Not one. I’m here to work,” Dutch shrugs.</p><p>            Colm huffs and stalks off to dig up his shaving kit to inspect his nose. Rufus breathes a laugh.</p><p>            “You’re bold,” Rufus says, and Dutch opens his mouth to reply but his mind whirls too fast to respond.</p><p>-</p><p>            The farmhouse Colm has targeted is smaller than Dutch had expected. He had overheard in town that its owner had married into some small material fortune, his wife’s family long dead. Colm had all but salivated when Dutch mentioned it to him and rallied the other men promptly. Now Dutch crouches with Colm, Neal, and Rufus in the trees along the fencerow of the humble farm.</p><p>            “Place looks empty,” Colm says. The farm is quiet indeed - no one working in the fields or around the barn, no laundry hanging. “We could try it.”</p><p>            “Why not wait for Sunday when they’re all off at church?” Dutch asks.</p><p>            “Oh, Dutch. Why put off till tomorrow what we can easily do today?” Colm winks. He looks back toward the house.</p><p>            “What’s the plan, Colm?” Dutch asks, but Colm is already moving along the fencerow toward the lane. Dutch shakes his head and follows him, his gut rolling.</p><p>            Colm walks into the house as if he lives there himself, and Dutch follows him, looking behind him to where Rufus and Neal are waiting in the trees. The house is small and lovingly decorated with the simple, abundant effects of honest people. Colm walks quietly ahead of Dutch, and a woman's voice calls out questioningly. Dutch hisses, and Colm gives him a dark, narrow look over his shoulder.</p><p>            Colm follows the voice, and Dutch follows Colm to the first doorway. The woman in the kitchen gasps with fear at the sight of them. She holds an infant in her arms, and it fusses at her evident fear.</p><p>            "I'm sorry, ma'am, this is the wrong home," Dutch says nervously, but Colm draws his pistol.</p><p>            "You hold her," Colm tells Dutch. "I'm checking the house."</p><p>            "No. We should leave it," Dutch says. Colm turns to him.</p><p>            "No?" Colm echoes him. "You <em>hold</em> her. Or it will be much worse for the both of you." Colm waves his pistol at the woman and Dutch moves toward her. She sets her baby on the chair behind her, pleading frantically as Dutch takes her arms. “Where’s your money?”</p><p>            “We don’t have any,” the woman says. Colm looks to Dutch and the woman pulls against Dutch’s hands on her wrists.</p><p>            “Where is it?” Colm asks again, and he steps toward the child, who sits miraculously quiet at the table. Dutch thinks of an uncle once telling him that fawns are still and silent by instinct to protect themselves.</p><p>            “We have some under the bed in the bedroom,” the woman says, her voice shaking, “but it’s only about forty dollars, we - ”</p><p>            A banging comes from the front end of the house, and a man appears behind Colm in the doorway, his rifle raised. Colm slowly steps behind Dutch and behind the woman. Dutch stares at the man from behind his own pistol, one hand wrapped around the woman’s wrists.</p><p>            “We’ll leave you be,” Dutch says, “my partner here’s gotten out of hand. If you’ll let us pass - “</p><p>            “No,” the man says with vibrant false confidence, his blue eyes wide like a cornered animal.</p><p>            Colm pushes at Dutch’s back, urging him forward toward the door. Dutch nudges the woman forward in turn, grinding his teeth.</p><p>            “You let us through, she won’t get hurt,” Colm says. The gun in Dutch’s hand suddenly feels too heavy at his wrist. The man fires his rifle, missing Dutch and Colm by a hair. With a quick movement from Colm and a simple bang, the woman collapses against Dutch, and the baby wails as another shot flies past him. Dutch turns his pistol to the man, and his ears ring before he even pulls the trigger. The man falls to the ground.</p><p>            Under the ringing in his ears, Dutch only hears the baby crying where his mother had seated him. Dutch numbly lowers the woman’s body to the floor. Colm is talking to him, and he hears none of it. The man’s blue eyes stare at him still, empty save for the fear left in his face.</p><p>            Neal bursts in, his guns drawn. He glances at the bodies and blood on the floor and on Dutch’s clothes, and he turns to Colm, chattering with questions and excuses. The baby wails.</p><p>            Dutch stands dumbly over the woman’s body. The ringing in his ears starts to fade, and everything around him grows louder. The voices grow tense and short as they argue with one another, and the baby grows more frantic, and Dutch’s heart pounds in his tight chest.</p><p>            Dutch realizes he should pick up the child, or speak to him, but hesitates as he realizes he has never soothed a baby. Another gunshot shatters the air, and the crying stops. Neal holsters his pistol and keeps talking.</p><p>            The silence turns Dutch's stomach. He keeps his eyes up as he pushes past Neal, stepping over the woman and the man, and rushes out of the house. He vomits and straightens himself, trying to keep his legs from shaking, hating himself for the embarrassment welling up in his chest. Rufus watches him, saying nothing, and Dutch hates him.</p><p>-</p><p>            The fire is dwindling, but it was hardly keeping Dutch warm as it were. He holds his coat tighter around himself, resisting the tremors creeping into his shoulders. Rufus plays cards by himself, and Colm and Neal argue with each other some ways off.</p><p>            He should have left when he had first felt the inclination. Silently, he curses himself and his loneliness and his greed.</p><p>            Darkness finally falls and Dutch quietly wraps his two worn books in his blanket and packs his few things into his bag. He keeps his head down as he makes his way through the trees toward the road.</p><p>            “Where you going, Dutch?” Colm calls out. Dutch turns to see Colm standing at the fire, smoking a cigarette.</p><p>            “Away,” Dutch says, without stopping. Colm starts walking toward him. Dutch halts and turns to face him.</p><p>            “I knew you two was mean, Colm, but I never thought you’d go and be cruel,” Dutch says coolly. “I got a long memory. There ain’t gonna be nothing stopping me from killing neither you nor your bastard brother if I see you within spitting distance of me.”</p><p>            “You ain’t got the stomach for it, Dutch,” Colm laughs to himself. “But you go on. Best of luck to you.”</p><p>            “This ain’t no way to live,” Dutch says, and turns to go, stepping heavily through the brush.</p><p>-</p><p>            Dutch takes easily to running alone again - enough that it frightens him now, wondering if he’s finally outgrown his loneliness. He makes his way through New England town by town, thinking about the mountains and the things that lie beyond.</p><p>            In Lancaster he finds himself at a stable, looking in the eyes of a finely-kept mare. He holds a hand out to her, strokes her nose with the back of his hand. It surprises him to touch something so gently again. He calls to the stable boy about her.</p><p>            “She don’t much care for men, so nobody wants her. We keep lowering the price, but we can’t go much lower,” the boy tells him.</p><p>            Dutch asks the questions he’s heard men ask when discussing horses, listening intently but understanding little of the conversation with the skeptical stablehand. He spends the last of his money on the horse and a saddle - talking down the price of each, more with tired luck than conscious skill.</p><p>            He proudly settles into his cheap saddle, the horse wary but ultimately accepting him. It relieves him that horses can’t be cheated with all the confidence in the world. Amused with himself, he names her Beatrice and along the roads he tells her of the mountains they’ll cross and the better world beyond them.</p><p>            Relief follows the return of the lonely ache in Dutch’s chest, as he feels once again like himself for it. Still he reflects, and wonders if he should never have left his mother, if he had overreacted to the O’Driscolls’ brutality. Each time, he unfolds his map and looks at the miles he’s put behind him, and all those ahead, and it eases his mind. Beatrice and the prospect of the country that lays before him is enough to ease the brunt of his loneliness and distract him from the empty blue eyes he thinks he sees in every shadow.</p><p>            The summer fades to autumn and Dutch feels his loneliness sink deeper into him with each earlier sunset. Winter brings its rain and snow, and on the good days Dutch makes his way across Pennsylvania. He devotes wet days and icy nights first to the thrills and disappointments of saloons and brothels, and then to stealing books from hotels rooms to read them in his own until the world begins to thaw.</p><p>           Sleep brings him dreams of wailing children and empty blue eyes, and they seem to follow him along the roads like some creeping predator. Dutch prays for some ancient thing to lunge from the darkness and gore him to put an end to it as he lies awake in the dark with stinging eyes. </p><p>            With early spring Dutch catches wind of Colm O’Driscoll in Harrisburg. He sets out again on the muddy roads along the river, gazing up at the mountains with wonder until his neck aches.</p><p>-</p><p>            In Pittsburgh on a warm night when the stars are just beginning to come out from behind sickly-looking clouds, Dutch finds himself being flattered by a man whose hair glimmers gold in the firelight. Dutch is long familiar with the ways of men on the road, and when he catches the man eyeing his satchel, he realizes with disappointment that the man is only trying to rob him.</p><p>            So Dutch keeps talking, and plants a curious hand on the man’s knee. He pretends for a few moments not to notice the man so stealthily pilfering the contents of his satchel. If Dutch were any other kind of man, he would not have noticed.</p><p>            Dutch carefully raises his gun just enough for it to glint in the flickering light. He cocks it, and at the sound of the click the man meets Dutch’s eyes with a smile teasing at his mouth. He sits back, Dutch’s hand still heavy on his knee.</p><p>            “And here I thought you were some blustering city boy,” the man says.</p><p>            “Almost,” Dutch says. He keeps his gun in his hand and wonders why the man stays seated at his fire. “Go on.” </p><p>            “You ain’t a killer,” the man says decidedly, as if he’s known Dutch for years, and if Dutch didn’t know better, he could believe that maybe he has.</p><p>            “How could you know?” Dutch asks.</p><p>            “Oh, sometimes one just knows things. And you haven’t killed me.”</p><p>            “Not yet,” Dutch says.</p><p>            “Not yet,” the man agrees with a wink. Dutch finds an odd relief in it, as something in the man’s face reacquaints Dutch with his lonesomeness.</p><p>            “What’s your name?” Dutch asks.</p><p>            “Hosea Matthews,” he says, with none of the pride that accompanies a false identity. Dutch holsters his pistol. “Liar, killer, and thief, at your service.”</p><p>            “Dutch van der Linde, much of the same,” Dutch pushes his satchel of food toward him again. He looks more like an honest man now, Dutch decides, for not having pretended to be anything more than what he is. “Help yourself.”</p><p>-</p><p>            Dutch and Hosea do not part ways. Weeks become months on the road together, and Dutch wonders if he’s following Hosea, or if Hosea is following him, but he welcomes the company and the conversation all the same. They prove to be a successful pair at swindling and at robbing. Dutch finds himself enamored with Hosea’s skills and his broad understanding of the natural things around him, and with the way he keeps every part of himself so neatly put together, though he would be equally handsome even if he were less diligent.</p><p>            Hosea cheats and he lies, and he steals and is quick to brandish his gun - but he also lets of his money easily and shares his food, with no delusions about his own character. Dutch realizes with some despair that he trusts Hosea like no other man. His company is something pleasant and not borne of any desperation, free of any conditions or threats, and life feels simpler for it.</p><p>            Hosea yields to Dutch, and so Dutch yields to him, and in planning their thieving and conning together the vast expanse of the country suddenly seems conquerable. Most of all, Hosea eases Dutch’s need for company and does it so well that Dutch finds himself feeling lonely even while beside him in anticipation of their eventual parting.</p><p>-</p><p>            Dutch wonders - more often than he would like - why Hosea stays if he never lets Dutch touch him or be with them. He has the chances, again and again - Dutch provides them like Hosea provides cigarettes, and Hosea ignores them, or - if Dutch is lucky - he laughs as he turns them down. Dutch throws a leg over Hosea’s sitting at a fire, kisses him dramatically on the cheek, presses close to him under their shared mess of blankets, offers him thinly-veiled propositions at every opportunity. Each time, Hosea looks at him with a smug amusement that makes him look every year of his age.</p><p>            If Hosea welcomed it, or if he began it, his touch would be sure and thorough, Dutch is certain, and when Dutch finds himself alone he thinks only of the ways he would touch Hosea. Still, it relieves Dutch as much as it disappointments him when Hosea waves him off and refuses him, even if Hosea watches him so fondly and so often leans into his touch before remembering himself.</p><p>-</p><p>            Through the months, Hosea listens to all of Dutch’s ravings - about his mother, about the country, about Hosea himself, about Colm O’Driscoll - his face at once reliably somber and skeptical as he listens. Dutch carefully avoids the day in the farmhouse, afraid to speak it back into existence, the memory weighing in the back of his skull. For every complaint Dutch brings up against Colm, he feels his own embarrassment bubbling higher at having associated with him.</p><p>            Dutch first sees Hosea kill a man early one morning when an attempt at a robbery ends with a gun aimed at Dutch's chest. Hosea straightens up between Dutch and the well-dressed man and quickly draws to fire once, and the man falls from his horse as it bolts away. Dutch keeps to himself for the rest of that day and into the night, frightened by Hosea’s unusual somberness and aching more than ever from his shame over the farmer, whose blue eyes seem to be in every foot of the darkness.</p><p>            Hosea is a smart man, and surely he intuits the things Dutch leaves in the shadows. Dutch hates to see the understanding flicker over Hosea’s face, resolving to let him speculate and draw his own conclusions, because letting Hosea have his ideas is better than Dutch lying to him. Hosea meets Dutch’s complaints with his own tales - about his drunken father, about nearly being hanged, about good men he’s treated poorly - and Dutch knows that each one is an invitation to share, but Dutch keeps quiet.</p><p>-</p><p>            Dutch realizes - somewhere amid the shared coffee and apples and blankets - that he has somehow found what he had been looking for each time he ever set out alone. He thinks of some romantic, poetic future in the wilderness, rich with all the freedoms of statelessness and intimate company, and he finds it inconceivable without Hosea.</p><p>            “The world is ours, Hosea,” Dutch tells him, gesturing to the dusty road ahead of them. Hosea laughs. “I mean it. With you by my side, the future is <em>ours</em>.“</p><p>            “Sure, Dutch. What future is that?” Hosea asks,</p><p>            “I don’t know yet. But I do hope you’ll stay to find out, my friend,” Dutch says. The proposition surprises even him, and he can see in Hosea’s face that he detects the gravity of it. Dutch lets him ponder it, his heart pounding in his ears until Hosea finally speaks.</p><p>            “I’d be honored, if you’ll have me.”</p><p>            “Of course I would,” Dutch says, and he laughs with relief, and in the corner of his vision he sees Hosea duck his head and laugh as well.  </p><p>-</p><p>            One night, sitting at the fire, his freckled cheeks pink from the whiskey he’s been so carefully nursing, Hosea finally questions Dutch about the roots of his resentment. Dutch feels his heart start to patter like a frightened rabbit.</p><p>            “You don’t know what he took from me, Hosea,” Dutch finally says, and hides behind the mouth of a bottle.</p><p>            “You could tell me,” Hosea invites softly, his face lit softly with sympathy rather than skepticism. Dutch watches him for a moment, and Hosea watches him back.</p><p>            “I couldn’t,” Dutch tells him, and it feels as much like a confession as anything else. Hosea nods, and they share the conversational punctuation of a drink.</p><p>            That night, Dutch sleeps tensely, dreams over and over that he wakes up to find Hosea gone. When he finally blinks himself into the waking world he finds he was awoken by Hosea gently removing himself from where Dutch had, in his sleep, curled tightly against Hosea’s back. Hosea says nothing, doesn’t tease him for it, though Dutch wishes he would.</p><p>            Dutch buries his face in the remnants of Hosea’s warmth in the blankets and listens to him stoke the fire and start the coffee.</p><p>            “Dutch,” Hosea says sharply. “Get up.”</p><p>            Dutch sits up tiredly and Hosea presses a cup of coffee into his hands. Dutch watches him sleepily, going about his routines with his hair out of place, neckerchief stuffed into the pocket of his unbuttoned shirt.</p><p>            Hosea looks up and meets Dutch's eyes, and his face glimmers with some secret amusement. Dutch feels his mind clear and takes a deep breath. He sips at his steaming coffee and finds it sweet - Hosea must have found sugar for him without Dutch noticing.</p><p>            "Good morning," Hosea says, seeming satisfied with Dutch’s wakefulness.</p><p>            "Good morning. Hosea?"</p><p>            "Dutch.”</p><p>            “Thank you,” Dutch says, and not realizing how to follow he adds, “the sugar. Thank you.”</p><p>            Hosea looks at Dutch questioningly, a harmless doubt tugging his mouth nearly into a smile, but finally nods in some silent understanding, and moves to sit with his own coffee at Dutch’s side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/jukebxgrad">twitter</a>. also check out my other red dead fic. it's all better than this one.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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